


The Next Ten Times

by Nimuesdream



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-19
Updated: 2014-05-19
Packaged: 2018-01-25 18:29:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1658198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nimuesdream/pseuds/Nimuesdream
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The next ten times Oliver says it. Spoilery for 2X23, Unthinkable</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Next Ten Times

The second time he says it, she doesn't hear him. It is July, and it is hot as hell in the new Arrow Cave. Installing air conditioning is not a workable plan – besides the financial aspect, someone's bound to stumble across the archery targets and start figuring things out, so he's taken a short break from working out, just choosing to lean against one of the pillars, watching her monitor her computer systems. She's intense, focused, not looking at him, not even seeming to notice him at all. "I love you," he whispers, knowing this time she hasn't heard, and that it's ok. 

#

The next time is when she is yelling at him. "Did you just threaten Barry with your arrows?"

"No, I --

"I quote: Oliver said, Felicity gets hurt, I will find an arrow that you can't outrun. What you were thinking?"

"I – I –" 

He can't get it out. 

So that time doesn't actually count.

#

The third time he says it is right after their encounter with her father. Laurel had given them a quick look before leaving for an emergency "major ice cream and chocolate run – triple chocolate. Quadruple chocolate," and Roy had offered to help her. 

"Felicity," he starts.

She doesn't even seem to hear it. "What if he's right, Oliver?"

"He's not right."

For once, she doesn't answer him. She isn't crying – not quite yet – but her throat is moving. Just silently. This is wrong. This is more than wrong. This is Felicity. And Felicity not talking is terribly, terribly wrong. He puts a hand on her left shoulder, then her right. 

"Feliciity. He's wrong. You're not alone. We all – we all love you. I love you," He quickly realizes what he's said, and hurries on. "We're not leaving you."

His arms slip down to pull her into a firm hug. He even gives her a tentative kiss on the forehead, before remembering what that could lead to, quickly moving his head to her shoulder, a slightly safer spot.

#

The fourth time he says it, Felicity has just somehow, inexplicably, hacked into the controls for an ARGUS satellite, buying them the time and knowledge that they need. "Felicity, I love you," he says, the words slipping out, without thought. Without even looking into her face, which is, as so often, turned to her computers.

Everyone else in the Arrow Cave – Roy, Laurel, Diggle – freezes, staring at him. He is not going to look at Diggle's knowing look, at Roy's open mouthed shock. He is not going to look at Laurel. He isn't. 

Only Felicity remains calm. "Keep saying that, Mr. Queen, and I might even believe you."

#

The fifth time, he has taken a few of Diggle's aspirins.

"Go to sleep, Oliver," Felicity tells him, wearily.

He's a bit too out of it to hear everyone else sigh at that.

#

The sixth time, they are pretending to be a newly married couple as part of their investigation into a group of travel agencies that Laurel suspects are just covers for drug runners. Oliver turns his face towards Felicity, bends down, and touches her lips with hers. It's meant to be just a quick, lighthearted kiss on the lips.

Somehow – completely by accident – it gets deeper.

His hands head up, getting tangled in her hair as he pulls her into him. He hears her moan – god – as her lips open beneath his, as his tongue moves forward to play with hers, as –

A cough interrupts him.

He pulls back, trying to take several deep breaths.

"So," he manages. "Aruba it is. The full luxury package."

"Doug," Felicity protests.

How she has stayed in character, after that, and remembered his fake name, he'll never know. "Nothing but the best," he adds. "I love you, honey."

#

He's not really surprised when Laurel approaches him about a week later. "Oliver," she starts. "Let me make this very clear."

Best to let her get it out.

"Felicity," she says evenly, "is my friend. You screw this up, and I guarantee, all of your archery skills won't save you from having severe knee damage. Severe. And I also guarantee that I will use all of my influence to let Helena out while giving her all the details. And I will find a way to contact Sara and Nyssa, who I promise, will be more than willing to help. And that's just the start."

He clenches his teeth.

"Now," Laurel says brightly, "Ready for some more bo stick practice?"

#

The seventh time, he is inside her. This is a stupid, stupid move. He knows that. He knows he is breaking every promise he's made to himself for the past two years, ever since he had realized – really realized – what this woman meant to him, and just how much he could – he would hurt her if they got together, if they changed their friendship into something else. It was why he had tried with Sara, really tried: Sara knew him; Sara was less likely to get hurt. This – with Felicity – is an incredibly bad idea. Incredibly bad.

But he hasn't been able to get the taste of her mouth out of his for two weeks, and he can't take it any more, which is why, after the others have left, he touches her shoulder – it's supposed to be just a quick shoulder touch, he swears, and the next thing he knows, both hands are on her shoulders, and then he is sweeping everything off a nearby table and pulling her on it, pulling off her blouse which is harder than it sounds because she is holding his head to hers, is not releasing his lips. It is not how he's fantasized it: a slow, long seduction, the way it ought to be. It is fast, it is hard, and she is holding him tightly enough to leave bruises, and somehow he is gasping out the words. 

#

"Coffee?" he asks her, a few days later.

Nothing has happened since. Nothing. He has no idea what she is thinking about all of this, none. 

"Why, Mr. Queen," she says brightly. "Are you asking me out on a date?"

"Well. Our latest coffeemaker does seem to have gotten broken again – violently."

#

But they don't date, not really. He is not sure why, only that the usual date things – dinners, movies, concerts, seem wrong to him. (Not to mention that many of the things Oliver Queen used to do on his dates are not really feasible just now: until he fully gains control of his company and ensures that this time, he has multiple, diverse assets and secret bank accounts so he can't be taken by financial surprise again no matter how distracted he is, which means, he's on a budget.) It's coffee; it's stopping off at local places to get takeout, it's sometimes talking about television shows and movies which he is slowly, in odd moments, catching up on, it's discussing Arrow business and their new jobs and how much easier it was to work with someone like her, or gossiping about Laurel's new boyfriend – "How does she constantly find these charming billionaires?" "Kord's not boring. And I'm getting some really bad vibes off him." "Oliver –" But it's not dating, in the normal sense of the word. Keeping an eye on her apartment from across the street on nights when he's worried is not dating. At all.

They don't mention that night. It's just as well. It had been incredibly stupid. This – this is much better, even if he finds himself touching her more and more, even if he finds himself making more and more excuses to stand by her. Even he can't stop thinking about it, can't stop fantasizing about all of the other things he could do with her. It's better this way. Much better.

If the rest of the team notices that Oliver's hugs with Felicity are getting a little longer, they don't say anything.

#

The eighth time he says it, she is flatlining. He is losing her; he can feel it, feel the energy, the life, slipping out of the hand that he is holding hard enough to break her bones. "Stay with me, Felicity," he shouts. "Stay with me. Do you hear me? I love you. Stay with me."

No one mentions this one later, either, not even when Oliver later makes sure that she has a fresh rose every day until she recovers. 

#

The ninth time, Felicity has just risked her life doing something stupid – incredibly stupid – and it doesn't matter that she's not hurt in the slightest, or that he takes even bigger risks all the time, this is Felicity, and he can't lose her, and if she can't understand that, then –

She doesn't understand that.

"Because this team needs you," he shouts. "I love you, and I can't risk you losing your life like this. I just almost lost you, damnit."

"You were willing to risk my life before this," she shouts back. "And may I remind you again, I make my choices. Me. I. Me. And how do you think I feel, every damn time you're out there on that motorcycle or out there with your bow? Every. Damn. Time."

He takes a deep breath. "I know," he says. "I know." He swallows. "Felicity – I'm sorry. I'm really sorry."

This hug is hard and almost painful.

#

The tenth time he says it he is handing over a small box lined with fake green velvet.

She gives him a puzzled look. "Oliver? What is this?"

"Open it."

The ring is an emerald, set against tiny diamonds and more emeralds, all cut in a sharp, contemporary sideways pattern. Different than the usual diamond. That might make things less clear, but he wants something different for her. Something that says Felicity.

"Oliver! You didn't have to get something like this for me! I mean, I know you're not still as broke as you were and things are coming together financially but I thought this time you were going to try to diversify any assets as they came in so you couldn't get caught by another Isabel style stunt – not that I blame you for that –"

"Felicity."

He should have known he would screw this up.

"Look at it."

"I am looking at it."

"It's a ring."

"I got that part."

He sighs. He's going to have to do this properly. He pushes off and gets down on one knee, remember that this is how this entire scenario works.

At that her mouth opens.

"Oliver."

"Felicity. Obviously I'm not any good at this. Just say yes." 

"But – Oliver. I mean." She is struggling between words and tears. "We're friends, right. I mean, yes, there was that one time of absolutely amazing sex that I haven't gotten out of my mind and yes you keep saying that you love me but it's a teammate sort of way and yes, ok, I'm still fantasizing but I've always known that I would never get –"

"Felicity."

That, remarkably enough, quiets her down.

"We've been far more than friends for a very long while now, and it's past time that we acknowledged that." He takes a deep breath. "Past time for us to promise to keep building a life together. I need that with you, Felicity."

Anything more that he could say is soon covered up by her mouth.

He doesn't actually manage to get the ring on her finger for several more hours, although he isn't really complaining about this, or the way that it looks on her hand when she is wearing absolutely nothing else.

"I just have one question, Oliver."

He can't help grinning. "Wouldn't be you if you didn't."  
"Why now? I mean, you've waited this long."

He drops another quick kiss on her mouth. "I couldn't figure out any other way to get you to say it back."

"Say what back?"

"I love you."

She doesn't say it back this time, either. At least, not in words.


End file.
